Saturday, April 09, 2005
Attempting to clean my computer's CD drive, I found the instructions amusing, something along the lines of: play cleaning disc for thirty seconds. You will hear a tone. After thirty seconds, you may eject the disc or enjoy the jazz selections on track three.
I chose to eject the disc and not enjoy the jazz selections. But how random.
Could we work that way, tag on a poem or paragraph from a story onto speeding tickets, metro passes, menus by the beverages, airline safety instructions beside the illustrations of a woman blowing up a yellow life vest?
On the bus in Vancouver, there was a poem plastered on the curved wall, beside the public service announcements about safe sex. The poem was not a public service, being very very bad.
Chocolate chip cookie that tastes of salt.
No mail worth waiting.
There were singers practicing outside my window just now, or at least, their stanzas drifted, reminding me of Shadowlands.
A pick-up game, which seems to have ended.
Students asleep on the grass.
Posted by Alison Stine